Month 1, Version 2.0

Dear Miles,

Let me first start off by welcoming you to the family. We’re a little nuts, a little intoxicated, and a little loud. I hope the experience thus far has been positive. I often see the same disinterested glazed look in your eyes which makes me second guess whether you’re digging this whole deal. Life for you is a little boring now but I promise it will get more fun. I have to keep you in either your frog chair or the crib or your sister terrorizes you with stickers or kisses. You might think kisses aren’t so bad but your sister doesn’t know her own strength and her slightly enlarged head makes for painful encounters.

Your days pretty much consist of sleeping, eating and pooping so there isn’t much to recall the first month so let me tell you a little bit about the day you were born. For some reason I had a very strong feeling I was going to be early with you. Perhaps it was excitement or maybe it was just wishful thinking. I was so unnerved you were going to come early that I held your father hostage at the house for the last 5 weeks of my pregnancy. He couldn’t go anywhere more than 10 miles from the house without getting an earful from me. I was early with Liv and my doctor too warned me that I would most likely be early with you. I had 2 due dates with you – a week apart. The first day came and went and I was certainly anxious to just meet you. Being pregnant with a toddler is no day in the park and I was definitely anxious to get back to my ol’ fighting self. I was ready to do anything under the sun to get you out.

It was just another Wednesday night – 11:00 to be exact. I stood up to put my computer on the counter and I felt a lovely gush of fluid. Now, when I was pregnant with Olivia, I too thought my water broke. Turns out, I just pissed myself. Just another wonderful side effect of pregnancy. You could understand my hesitation when I thought it happened again. As we’re waiting at the house for your Grandparents to arrive, I suddenly had the urge to fold laundry and make sure Olivia’s favorite oatmeal was on the counter. Maybe I was nervous about the delivery or meeting you but my only instinct was to keep the house organized and keep cleaning – I told you we are nuts.

We are now at the hospital. I’m still not having contractions at this point but because my water broke, I have to stay. The staff gives me a wonderful little medicine call Pitocin which holy mother of God, is the most brutal thing ever. I was warned that the contractions would be slightly more painful. SLIGHTLY? SLIGHTLY? Well that’s the understatement of the century. Goodbye plans of having another natural childbirth. Once I realized your father couldn’t stay awake to help me through my contractions and the pain was more than I could handle, I decided to get the epidural. It really does play out like it does in the movies. Sweaty laboring woman is screaming for the drugs and the doctor strolls in to the room at a snail’s pace. He may have been moving faster but in my world, everything was moving slow. I remember the nurse trying to talk to me in a calm voice about nothing important and thinking, oh my god, this is how I’m going to die. This pain is going to kill me right here, right now. Finally I get the epidural. No sooner do they lie me down and I feel the wave of awesomeness take over. Suddenly the pain is wiped clean. I’m thinking to myself, is this for real? Is it supposed to be like this? Am I really still having contractions? Compared to Liv’s birth, I almost felt like I was cheating the most important test of my life. Should I not be screaming and cursing – veins popping out while in labor?

An hour goes by. Your father and I have just been talking and voila, the nurse announces I’m ready to start pushing. I’m still in shock that for the last 2 hours of labor since receiving my epidural, I haven’t felt the slightest thing. Now I’m thinking, this is when things are going to get a little tricky. How does one push when you can’t feel anything. I was certain this is when things would take their toll on me. I pushed, pushed again, pushed once more. Bada bing, 5 minutes later you arrived. Because of the agonizing pain I was experiencing with your sister, the details of the actual delivery are a little foggy. With you, I remember every bit of detail. I remember the excitement from everyone in the room what the sex of the baby was. You were half way out and the doctor announced, “let’s see – is it a boy or a girl – here it comes.” She pulled you out and all I saw was *(WARNING – this next part may embaress you) balls! Everyone at the same time yelled, IT’S A BOY! With Olivia, I remember there was a good 20 seconds or so while they were getting her cleaned up that I didn’t know what the sex was.

The nurse rested you on my chest and the second thing that came to mind was, my goodness – now that is a nose – a gentleman’s nose. Don’t ask me what exactly that is but it just fits. Your nose is very distinct and I have a feeling it will be the source of your cuteness. You have a lovely little rage in you which I have dubbed the “Irish Fire.” You go from still to crazy angry in a blink of an eye – you wearily shake your fist in the air like you have a profound statement to make. You are so incredibly sweet. I love every inch of you. I love the little peanut you are now and the handsome man you will become. It seems so long ago that your sister was as tiny as you are now and I have a firsthand experience knowing how fast you will grow. Because of this, I try to take every minute of you in. I probably don’t get to do it as much as I would like since your sister has become so damn needy! Geez, a 2 year old who wants her mother all the time – what’s her problem?

We still have quite a bit of “getting-to-know-you” business to tackle but we’ll take it one day at a time. I love you my Miles. Please stay this small for awhile.